Grey, moss grown stone ascending
Ardently towards the cloud;
A wink of sun keeks through a stand
Of heavy, sticky pine and
Water trickles by my feet as still
I rise and breathe the ever softer air.
The only sounds… a car, four miles away,
The burn I walk beside and wind
Embracing me and all in my purview.
The moment, like a thought, consumes
And takes up residence within me.